Deus ex Coemeterium - A Tale of Christmas Eve
by apAidan
Summary: Harry and Hermione have set out for Godric's Hollow, only to discover it's Christmas Eve. What might have happened if they'd discovered a bit more that silent night. A bit OOC since Harry stops and thinks about exactly how much Hermione has given up for him over the years. My apologies for the formatting of the epitaphs, couldn't make that work once it was uploaded.


**Deus ex Coemeterium – A Tale of Christmas Eve  
**

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_**a/n –** Everything recognizable from the world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and her various and sundry corporate partners. The description of the headstone for the Potter graves is taken from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Chapter Sixteen._

_This little tale came from two thoughts. One was what would have happened that Christmas Eve if Harry had taken time to think about what Hermione had done for him. And the second was from an old family story about a niece of mine, when she was about six, who misunderstood a verse of scripture and wondered what angels were doing in their underwear.  
_

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**Chapter One – Godric's Hollow and the Night Visitors**

_11 pm 24 December 1997 – Godric's Hollow_

Having arrived in the quiet village of Godric's Hollow under the cover of Harry's invisibility cloak, both Harry and Hermione turned to see if anyone was about. The quiet little West Country village lay blanketed by snow, and other than the night sounds, the only thing the pair could hear was _Hark, the Herald Angels Sing _being played on an organ.

While Harry's gaze was unerringly drawn to the kissing gate that separated the cemetery from the rest of the village, Hermione's was drawn longingly to the small village church where she could see lights blazing through the stained glass windows and people filing into the small brick structure in ones and twos. The longing in her eyes, wanting desperately for some small measure of normalcy and the comfort of her childhood was evident to Harry as he turned back.

Even in her borrowed form, Harry could see the almost palpable need in Hermione's expression. While the Durselys were Christmas and Easter church-goers at best, and once Harry had begun to exhibit accidental magic they never would have allowed him to darken the doors of their local parish, Hermione had spoken about church as being a part of her growing up in Oxford.

She used to joke about the running battle between her mother's 'High Kirk' upbringing and her father's growing up in the traditions his family had brought with them from Scotland, both affectionately and derisively known as 'The Wee Wee Frees', that branch of the Scottish Free Church that declined to follow the rest into a the larger union of the Presbyterian Churches, and how his once yearly concession to her was attending the Christmas Eve services in Oxford.

As he thought about that, and that Christmas Eve was a time for family, Harry realized in an instant that while they had come here primarily in an effort for Harry to connect with his family, the night must be particularly difficult for Hermione since she had sent her parents into exile without even the memory they had a daughter. While their lives would continue much as they had before in their new home in Australia, they had no knowledge of a daughter that missed them terribly.

Compared to everything she had given up for him, Harry's next decision was an easy one.

Taking her by the elbow, Harry started walking towards the small church. She followed along for a couple of steps before halting and reaching to take him by the hand.

"Harry, we don't …"

"Have anything better to do than attend the Christmas Eve service here tonight," Harry interrupted with an apologetic smile. "I can't give my best friend Christmas with her parents tonight, but I can and will insist she spend the evening as close to them as possible."

Seeing the gobsmacked look on her face, he blushed. "My parents will still be … where they are once this is over. I've robbed you of family, come between you and …"

Breaking off as her eyes started flashing, he hurriedly added, "Please, just let me do this for you. We can look at the cottage and look for my parents to see if we can find any trace of the sword after this is over."

"Harry," she began in a tentative voice. Shaking her head she smiled at him. "Thank you," she said as she leaned up and kissed him gently on the cheek. "And for the record, you didn't come between me and anyone."

Looking down at her wrist, she noted the time and sighed. "Though we'll have to keep track of the time. It wouldn't do to change back in the middle of singing _Silent Night_.'

Slipping her hand through his arm, they made their way to the open door of the church, noting that it was St. Uriel's. Nodding affably to the young man who was standing at the door and greeting the arrivals, they looked around the brightly lit interior for a moment before Hermione led Harry over to the back pew and seated them on two seats at the end, near a door that looked as if it led outside.

For Harry, the service that followed was a novel experience. The sights and sounds of the simple West Country church spoke to him on many levels and for the first time he felt a connection to Christmas as more than just a celebration marked by music, food, and presents. For Hermione …

For Hermione it was as if she had come home, if even for just an hour. While the differences between this service and what she had grown up with in Oxford were numerous, there was a fundamental sameness in a gathering of souls to celebrate the coming of the Light into the world.

As the service drew to a close, ushers passed baskets of candles around, each member of the congregation taking one with practiced ease. As the choirmaster began to lead the choir and congregation in _Silent Night_, a pair of young attendants dressed in white lit long tapers from the candles burning in the front as the lights in the sanctuary dimmed.

As the flame was passed from person to person, row to row, Harry could feel that the polyjuice was beginning to fade. Thankful for Hermione's foresight touched both of them with the tip of his wand and the enchantments she had woven into the clothes allowed them to shift back to theirs as they resized themselves from the older couple they had come disguised as.

Feeling strangely free as they sang the familiar carol with their own faces and voices, they waited as the procession, from the front to the rear, exited the church, still singing the ancient carol to the light of candles.

As the pair stepped out into the crisp night air, the stars were twinkling above in the clear vault of the heavens. As the moon shown down, they looked at each other and clasped hands as they carried the candles, allowing them to light their way.

As they stepped towards their original destination, splitting off from the main body of worshipers who were heading towards home and hearth, they had almost reached the entrance to the cemetery when a voice halted them.

"Could you spare something for a weary wanderer on Christmas Eve?"

Quickly turning, both stared at the man who seemingly appeared out of the darkness. Of course, with the shadows from the trees surrounding the cemetery, he was only now visible when they had approached close enough with their candles.

Stepping a bit in front of Hermione, Harry looked at the man who was standing there with his right hand out. Under his left arm was tucked a book, but he was dressed in a short wool coat and what looked like homespun trousers that were tucked into a pair of Wellies that had seen better days. Glancing at Hermione, Harry could see the suspicion in her eyes warring with her desire to help this man.

Seeing that Hermione was reaching into her pocket where she had her trusty beaded bag, Harry turned his attention to the man who was patiently waiting.

"You startled us," he began hesitantly. "We'd come here tonight to …" Pausing for a moment, Harry opted for as much of the truth as seemed safe to tell. "We came to visit my parents' graves. This is the first chance we've had to come back since they died and …"

Trailing off, Harry was suddenly overwhelmed with the thoughts of his parents.

"Aye, Christmas is a time for families," the man agreed, seemingly ignoring Harry's hesitation and smiled. "Not to be bold, guvnor, but you'd be he Potter boy."

Stiffening, Harry's hand started moving towards the hilt of his wand as Hermione looked frantically around.

"Peace, I've been in this village a very long time, I'd have to be blinder than old Bartimaeus to not see the family resemblance," he chuckled. "Never did understand how someone as careful as young Jimmy was could have had a gas explosion, but the cottage was blown up that night, sure enough."

"You knew them?" Harry choked out. Hermione placed her hand on his arm and stepped forward.

"Harry's not been able to talk to many folks who knew his family; maybe sometime we could come back?"

Holding out the thermos flask that she had conjured earlier and filled with hot chocolate, she smiled. "It's not much, but it's warm and it should see you home warmer than you'd be otherwise."

Taking the flask, the stranger smiled and nodded. "If you wouldn't object, I can show the pair of you to where your young man's parents are buried."

Glancing over at Harry, who was still dealing with the reality of being this close to where his parents died, she nodded gratefully.

"We'd appreciate that," she simply said as she wrapped her free arm around Harry.

As they approached the cemetery entrance, the man opened the gate and ushered them through. Flashing Harry a reassuring smile, Hermione kept her hand on her wand even though the man's clothes were too authentically muggle to be a disguised death eater.

Stifling a giggle, Hermione tried to imagine someone like Lucius Malfoy or Dolohov trying to figure out a pair of wellies. Seeing the look Harry shot her, she smirked and pointed at the man's feet as they followed him deeper into the graveyard. At Harry's look of understanding, she leaned her head against him and hugged him closer to her.

The flickering light of their candles illuminated the occasional headstone as they followed their guide. Names such as Bones, Marchbanks, Crouch, and Bagshot gave mute testimony to the fact that the village had been home to wizarding families since its founding almost a thousand years ago.

As they passed a pair of headstones marked 'Dumbledore', which glowed faintly of their own accord, they could see that their guide had stopped a couple of rows further in. Making a mental note to return and check out the graves from their former Headmaster's family, they moved forward until they reached the place where he was standing.

The white marble of the tombstone gleamed in the darkness, even before it came within the flickering light of the candles they still carried. As they stood before it, they took in the stark simplicity of the final resting place of Harry's parents.

JAMES POTTER_LILY POTTER

Born 27 March 1960_Born 30 January 1960

Died 31 October 1981_Died 31 October 1981

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is Death._

Staring at the inscription in disbelief, Harry whispered, "Isn't that a Death Eater philosophy," trying to keep his voice down to not give anything away to the old man standing behind them.

Shaking her head gently, Hermione leaned up and kissed him tenderly on the cheek. "No, Harry. Paul wrote that in his first recorded letter to the Church at Corinth. He was giving hope to the people there, telling them that would come a time when all sin and suffering would be abolished, and that Death would no longer have control over mankind."

Before she could continue, the old man who was standing behind them broke in.

"Always did think young Paul had a way with words. Certainly knew how to turn a phrase. Though I have always been partial to his letter to the Hebrews when he reminds them to continue to offer hospitality to strangers."

As a bright light began to shine behind them, both teens turned in place and stared in disbelief.

Gone was the old man in rough homespun clothes and wellies. In his place was a tall, majestic being clothed in robes of browns and gold colors, light emanating from him highlighting a pair of wings that were unfurled behind him, flexing like those of a massive raptor poised for flight.

In his left hand was a massive broadsword that changed into a book and then back again. In his right, which was outstretched towards them was a ball of flames that hovered just above his palm.

Staring in disbelief, Hermione whispered, "Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by this some have entertained angels unawares."

"Aye, and very entertaining have you two been, Hermione Jane Granger and Harry James Potter. Your hot chocolate would make me the envy of my peers." Smirking a bit, he added, "If Archangels were subject to that particular fault, of course."

"Of course," Hermione replied numbly. Eyes widening in recognition as she glanced over at the church and seeing the figure captured in one of the stained glass windows, she asked, "Uriel I presume?"

"Of course," he replied with a grin. "Considering the great lengths young Riddle has gone to to avoid falling under my purview, I thought it only right that I give you a chance tonight."

Turning his attention to Harry, he looked him up and down, letting his gaze linger on the pocket where Harry had stashed the invisibility cloak before letting his eyes linger on where the snitch was hidden.

Finally, his gaze focused on the scar, and Harry became uncomfortable under his gaze.

"You two were treated ill in this venture, especially considering what you have been asked to accomplish," the Archangel began without preamble. "Unfortunately, young Albus never did learn his lessons. Always thought with his bits instead of his brains."

As the Archangel shook his head, Harry looked over at Hermione and saw that she was as lost as he was.

"His miserly hoarding of information means that you two are missing a vital piece of information. A piece that he means for young Harry here to discover when it's too late to do anything about it other than what he's decided should be done."

As he spoke, Hermione's thoughts began to jell and seven years of questions and clues coalesced into a soul-numbing conclusion.

"That night, Riddle went to the Potter home to create a Horcrux."

Dropping to her knees as the horror of the situation overwhelmed her, tears were rolling down her cheeks as she simply whispered, "No" over and over.

In a gentler voice, Uriel continued. "He went to create one with his wand, that night. In his hubris, he equated his wand with the relics of the Founders. In his vanity, Tom Riddle considered his wand the equivalent of Ravenclaw's Diadem, Hufflepuff's Cup, or Slytherin's Locket."

As he mentioned the locket, it began to glow and rose from around Hermione's neck, lifting the chain over her head. As soon as direct contact with the accursed relic was ended, the overwhelming feelings of hopelessness and impending doom lifted from her as well. Uriel reached out with the broadsword and looped the chain around the blade a couple of times, setting the locket to swinging back and forth like some pendulum that was possessed.

"As I was saying, he'd performed the rituals and consumed the potions that would have allowed him to fracture his soul yet again and invest the resulting fragment into his wand. Not only to bolster his ill-considered quest for immortality, but he also thought that by linking his soul with his wand he could bolster his control over his magic."

Looking hopeful, Hermione whispered, "Then Harry?"

"Oh, when the killing curse rebounded, Tom's soul fractured again, and that fragment had to go somewhere. Unfortunately for young Harry here since Tom wasn't able to direct the fragment into his wand, since the rebound that blasted the fragment loose blasted the rest of his pathetic soul loose from it's fragile moorings, the fragment latched onto the first thing it could find, and that was him."

As Hermione began to cry and hold onto Harry, in Harry's mind the puzzles of his life, how Albus Dumbledore had orchestrated every bit of his existence since the night that the prophecy had been given all fell into place and he could see the conclusion that the Headmaster had been striving for. Exactly how he would vanquish the Dark Lord.

Wrapping his arms tightly around the sobbing witch, Harry placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head before turning his attention back to the Archangel.

"If we do this tonight, all I ask is that you take her to Australia, to her parents," he began as Hermione stiffened in his arms. "Work her into their memories, and make her forget any of this. Even with the Dark Lord gone, she won't be safe here in Britain, but there, she'll have a chance at a new life as Jane Wilkes."

Looking directly at the sword, Harry closed his eyes and waited.

"Young Albus certainly did a number on you, young man," Uriel said in a tone that was clearly annoyed. As Harry's eyes popped open, he smiled at him.

"I would like to think that between an Archangel and your young woman there, we could come up with a better solution than me simply running you through with this sword here."

Shaking his head, Uriel waited until Hermione looked up at him before continuing.

"If I mentioned that the soul and a hologram have something in common, how could that help?"

Blinking in surprise, Hermione thought for a moment before staring at the angel in disbelief. "If you cut a hologram in half, you can still see the whole of the image, and that continues no matter how many times you split …"

Trailing off, she looked from the locket swinging madly back and forth to Harry's scar.

"Harry, that day in the Chamber. When Tom tried to take over Ginny, it was him. He only knew what he knew when that Horcrux was created, but it was him."

"Very good," Uriel smiled as he nodded at the pair. "And if I were to pronounce judgment on any part of the whole …"

"The whole will be judged." Pausing for a moment, Hermione looked troubled. "But isn't that something that happens at the End?"

"True," the Archangel conceded, "But young Tom has gone past his allotted time, he's had his run and now he needs to be laid to rest. There's a reason that creating Horcruxes is an Abomination."

Seeing the look in Hermione's eyes, the angel chuckled. "It's a matter of intent. While 'Free Will' covers a multitude of things, deliberately splitting your soul to prevent yourself from crossing over isn't one of them. If nothing else, the trauma to the soul of splitting it like that leaves a person less than sane."

"And splitting it multiple times leaves you even more so," Harry added. Looking at Hermione, the pair exchanged glances and came to a decision.

Struggling to their feet, they turned to face the Archangel, hand in hand.

"We want to end this tonight," Harry began.

"And we want to end this, together," Hermione finished.

Turning serious, he stared at both of them for a moment, and then nodded. Looking at Harry, he simply said, "Hold out your hand."

As Harry held out his right hand, his left being firmly held in Hermione's grasp, the ball of flame that had been resting above the palm of the Archangel bounced, for wont of a better word, and landed in the outstretched palm of Harry's hand.

When the flames touched his hand, they didn't burn, but it was as if a current passed through both of the teens. For a moment, pain seemed to radiate from the scar on Harry's forehead, and then there was a squelching sound followed by a high pitched keening as something erupted from the scar.

With a "I'll take that, thank you very much," the Archangel's right hand snapped forward and grasped the writhing ball of black tentacles that were hovering in the air after having erupted from Harry's scar.

As his fingers closed around the writhing mass, several things happened at once.

A high keening scream erupted from the mass in Uriel's hand as it burst into blue-white flames.

The same thing happened with the locket, swinging from the blade of the Archangel's sword. While the flames burned with extreme temperature, neither the locket nor the sword were damaged.

Harry and Hermione spun to their right as the same screaming could be heard at the edge of the cemetery. Blue-white flames were shooting into the air as they seemed to engulf a human-shaped figure. As they watched in horror, it seemed that a giant serpent erupted from the figure before crashing to the ground in flames.

In London, alarms went off in Gringotts as the same screams and flames erupted in the vault belonging to one Bellatrix Lestrange nee Black from an ornate antique cup. While the fires were confined to the vault, when the goblins were able to force the vault open later they would discover that while the destruction seemed to center around the cup, every dark or cursed item in the vault had been consumed by the flames.

At Hogwarts, far to the north and east, the same flames and screaming could be heard coming from behind the wall facing the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy teaching trolls to dance. The members of the Hogwarts resistance who were in the Room of Requirement at the time all saw ghostly flames as the translucent image of a bust of a wizard wearing a tiara appeared in the middle of the room. As soon as the flames and keening stopped, the image disappeared. Those members of Ravenclaw House that were present swore that the tiara looked like the fabled Diadem of Ravenclaw, which had been missing for centuries.

And in Malfoy Manor, in what used to be the formal ballroom but now served as the throne room for Tom Riddle, known to his followers as Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord fell to his knees in front of his throne, screaming in agony as blue-white flames began to consume his magically constructed body. Reacting blindly, he opened the connections to all of his followers through their Dark Marks and tried to draw power from them and bring them to him.

Since the connection was at the soul level, and the judgment of Uriel was being served upon the soul of Tom Riddle, the flames followed those connections and all around Britain Death Eaters dropped to their knees in agony as their left arms erupted into flames. A handful with the presence of mind to act and with their wands in their right hands at that moment was able to sever their left arm at the elbow, preserving their magic and their sanity.

The rest, unfortunately, had both their left arms and their magical cores burnt out by the purifying flames, leaving most of them either in a catatonic state, or seriously deranged, seeing a flaming sword wherever they looked.

Of course, considering what had been going on for the past several months, Death Eaters without magic and unable to defend themselves quickly found themselves at the suspect mercies of their former victims. A particularly gruesome scene was found several days later when authorities finally forced their way into the London townhouse belonging to one Dolores Umbridge.

With the loss of her magic, and the ability to dominate the kneazels she had enslaved over the years, the score of freed magical felines had been neither quick nor neat in taking their revenge.

Back in the graveyard, the bells in the church began to chime, signaling the hour and that Christmas Day had arrived. As the pair both whispered, "Happy Christmas", Uriel began to laugh.

"Timing could have been a bit better, but I think your Dark Lord problem is solved," the Archangel said, smiling at the looks of disbelief on both their faces. Holding out his sword towards the pair, he added, "I think you can take that back, now."

As Hermione tentatively reached her hand out, Uriel gave a jab with the sword, causing the locket to slide down the blade and the chain caught on her outstretched hand.

Not feeling the sense of foreboding or dread that she had come to associate with the locket, Hermione slipped the whole thing into her pocket with a smile.

Looking a bit shell-shocked, Harry turned his attention first to Hermione and then to the angel. "Any suggestions?" he asked.

"After you take care of the pressing business, I would suggest you first go to Malfoy Manor and then Hogwarts."

Seeing the puzzled looks on their faces, he smiled reassuringly. "Malfoy Manor was where young Tom was using as his headquarters. I think you'll find some friends of yours being held prisoner there. Since all of your Death Eaters have been taken care of, you need to go and release them.

"From there, speaking with Headmistress McGonagall will enable you to get things started. Hogwarts will be the only functioning institution for the next several days, so you can use it as a base. After a week or so, you should be clear to fly to Australia and reunite the Grangers with their daughter."

Wrapping her hand around Harry's, Hermione asked, "You mentioned 'pressing business'?"

Smiling broadly, the Archangel pointed the sword towards the church named after him. As the two looked, they could see a man in dark clothes standing in the doorway, apparently waiting.

"Yes, the two of you have an appointment with Vicar Thompson. Even though it's a holiday, I think you'll find him able to accommodate you."

Seeing the confused look on Harry's face and the blush on Hermione's, Uriel laughed. "You don't think I'm going to send the two of you off to your tent without seeing the vicar first. Alone. Do you?"

Looking panicked, Harry glanced at Hermione. "I thought …"

"No, Harry," Hermione said reassuringly. "It was never Ron. It was always you."

"Oh."

Pausing for a moment, he started to ask "Will you …" but she interrupted with "Of course I will."

When Harry said, "I don't have …", Hermione answered, "We can fix that later."

"Do you want …" "It's sweet that you want my parents there, and we'll have a big church wedding after we sort them out." Pausing for a moment, she added, "and after our honeymoon, of course."

Turning towards the Archangel, Harry asked, "The vicar is expecting us?"

"He won't mind staying up a bit," Uriel said with a chuckle. "And don't worry about ID; he'll know who the two of you are."

Seeing the dubious looks on their faces, he added, "His younger sister was a Hufflepuff, Class of 1977. She ended up marrying a nice young wizard named Abbot; I believe his niece is in your year."

"Hannah's uncle?" Hermione smiled at the thought of the blonde Hufflepuff who had sat beside her in Runes.

"You could change and come to the ceremony," Harry suggested.

"Sorry," the angel begged off, "I've got to go catch a train."

Seeing the look in their eyes, he smiled. "Someone's waiting on a train; I have to go break the bad news to them that it's not going to come."

"How does that …" Trailing off, Hermione shook her head. "Never mind, I'm certain I don't want to know."

As the pair took their leave of the angel, they turned back to the grave where Harry's parents were buried. Harry introduced Hermione to them, explaining that the two of them would be back, but first they were going to get married and then rescue some friends.

As Hermione conjured a wreath of Christmas Roses to put on the grave, Harry looked over his shoulder and watched as the Archangel Uriel faded from view.

Taking Hermione by the hand, they walked quickly through the gently falling snow towards the waiting vicar, and their future.

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_a/n 2 - For the record, the quote on the Potter headstone is taken from verse 26 of the 15th chapter of 1st Corinthians. The quote Uriel and Hermione mentions is the second verse of the 15th chapter of the letter to the Hebrews. While the author of that letter isn't definitively identified, traditionally the letter is ascribed to Paul._

_The congregations of the 'Wee Wee Frees' are also known as the Free Presbyterian Church of Scotland. Not to be confused with the 'Wee Frees' the Free Church of Scotland._

_A number of reviewers criticized JKR for playing the deus ex machina card too many times during the series, so I thought it was only proper and fitting to incorporate it into a little holiday tale, Coemeterium being the Latin word for graveyard or cemetery._

_I never could get the formatting for the epitaphs correct, sorry about that_

_A Merry (Harmonious) Christmas, to one and all!_

_ap Aidan_


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